


All For You

by charis2770



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward First Times, Best Friends, Boys Kissing, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Dom/sub, First Time, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Reiner and Bertholdt are still trainees but they're both the same age, Slash, Spit As Lube, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how Bertholdt Hoover came to be the property of Reiner Braun. Bertholdt has always known he loves Reiner. In his heart, he's always belonged to him, and loves for the little things he can do to show Reiner how much he cares, and to help himself pretend that he IS Reiner's. He tells himself that it's enough, that pretending, and being Reiner's best friend is all he needs. But oh, he wishes. Once night, after a very successful first training mission when everyone celebrates, Bertholdt lets his guard down and reveals too much. He tries to take it back, to explain it away, but it is too late. Reiner has recognized his attraction. Now nothing will ever be the same again!</p>
            </blockquote>





	All For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bullshit-anime-url](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bullshit-anime-url).



> This story is a gift fic for my follower, bullshit-anime-url, who won a random drawing on my blog, BDSMfordummies-with-erwin-smith in celebration ofit reaching 1000 followers! I really loved their tag on their reblog of the gift post. It said, "Gonna get me a kinky Reibert fic". So here it is, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> In the early part of this story, there are descriptions of punishment spankings of minors. One of them is pretty severe, so if that sort of thing bothers you, please be warned!
> 
> Also the story takes place when Reiner and Bertl are trainees together. You can't join the military until you're legal adults, but they are still fairly young. But they're in love, and have wanted each other basically since puberty! There is NO depiction of any age difference, but if thinking about them being young does bother you, give this a pass
> 
> The sex between these two their first time is pretty awkward, They don't know what they're doing, only using spit as lube. It hurts Bertholdt, and he cries. It's totally unintentional and Reiner feels terrible, and it works out fine in the end, but the scenario may be triggering for some people!

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply of the clean-smelling steam as the iron draws it from the damp cotton of the shirt he’s working on. That’s his secret for getting their shirts so crisp. He irons them while they’re still damp. He’s never told Reiner that he spends a few of his own carefully hoarded coins to purchase special laundry soap that he uses on their clothing. Reiner would try to make him stop, feeling bad for letting Bertholdt go to such an expense. But he hates the harsh lye soap they use in the company laundry. The fumes of it in the steam burn his eyes when he irons. It gives him a secret thrill to wash their clothing together in the same load of laundry, as though it blends their scents together, and likes knowing that they smell the same when they put on their clean uniforms. He watches Reiner surreptitiously, because when he picks up his freshly laundered shirt to put it on, he’ll often hold it to his nose for a moment and smell it, and smile. It makes Bertholdt so happy, to know his friend is pleased. He likes to imagine that Reiner finds the scent erotic and that it makes him think of Bertholdt, though he knows perfectly well this isn’t really true. He likes the smell of this soap too. There’s a scent to it that reminds him of their home, the little village where they grew up together. He closes his eyes and smiles, remembering.

***

“Oh God, what am I gonna do, Bertl?” His best friend’s honey-colored eyes are anguished as he sits in the dirt by the side of the road, looking at the ugly rip in the knee of his trousers. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that his poor knee is swollen and bruised from his fall. “These are brand new pants! Mama’s always complaining that I won’t stop growing and she can’t afford to keep making me new clothes. She told me not to ruin these, or I’ll be in big trouble. She’ll whip me for sure!”

Reiner Braun has been Bertholdt Hoover’s best friend for ten years, since they were just toddlers of two. Their families have been neighbors since the Hoovers built their new house next door to the little Braun farm. Bertholdt worships his strong, brave friend. He’s a shy boy, for all that he has been the tallest boy their age in the little village school since they began to attend at age 5. Reiner is no chatterbox, but he’s friendly, and a born leader. The way he looks out for the smaller students is so cool. Reiner hates bullies. Bertholdt does too, but he’s always too scared to speak out against them. Not like Reiner, who puts them in their place without hesitation. He’s so handsome too, with his hair like sunshine and his eyes like honey from the combs Bertl’s papa keeps at the back of the vegetable garden, and his body so strong and muscular, even at his age.

Bertholdt has known he’s different from other boys for a long time. It isn’t that he wishes he were a girl, it’s just that he seems to _like_ some of the same things girls like. Flowers, and pretty stones, and lacy things. And Reiner. He’s been aware that he’s in love with Reiner for practically forever. At least since he was 9. He fantasizes, like little girls do, about getting married. He doesn’t imagine himself wearing a dress or anything, but he does imagine himself as Reiner’s bride. He knows it’s weird, and he never tells anyone how he feels, especially Reiner. He’s certain his friend would be horrified and angry if he found out and that he’d never speak to Bertholdt again.

“Come to my house,” he says soothingly, putting his hand on Reiner’s arm, biting his lip for just a moment at the feeling of sun-warmed skin under his palm. “I can fix them for you.”

“Do you think so?” asks Reiner anxiously. Bertholdt nods. He helps Reiner to his feet and they hurry to the Hoover homestead. Nobody is home. His father is away in the city, buying some tools and things they need that he can’t get here in the village, and his mother is spending the day helping a sick friend on the other side of town.

“You’ll have to take them off so I can work on them,” he says apologetically. His breath catches in his throat when Reiner shucks off his trousers without a moment’s hesitation. None of the village boys have much modesty amongst themselves. They swim in the big pond at the edge of the wood in the Summer all the time, all of them stripped to their skins. Bertholdt has been pretending to hate to swim for the past 2 years, even though the others tease him for it and it bewilders Reiner, who knows it to be a lie. He knows that if he takes off his clothes, he won’t be able to hide what the sight of Reiner’s naked young body does to him, now that he’s starting to mature. His prick isn’t very big yet, but it gets hard at the sight of Reiner naked, and there have been many nights when he’s awakened with a sticky mess in his smallclothes after dreams of kissing Reiner and touching him, and doing other things Bertholdt doesn’t really understand, but that make him feel all squirmy and hot inside. It happens again at the sight of Reiner’s pale, bare legs sticking out from under the tails of his shirt. He bites his lip and turns away quickly with the torn pants in his hand, his cheeks hot, hoping desperately that Reiner doesn’t notice.

As ever, Reiner is serenely unaware of his friend’s discomfort, and talks to Bertholdt while he gets out his mother’s sewing basket and threads a needle with some brown thread that matches the cloth of Reiner’s new pants.

“You’re always doing such nice stuff for me, Bertl,” he says as he pokes around the kitchen, munching on the apple Bertholdt had tossed him when they’d come in. “You come over and help me with my chores all the time, even though you’ve got your own to do.”

“That’s because you’re slow,” jests Bertholdt gently, grinning at Reiner. “I’m already done with mine before you even get started most days. If I want to be able to go have fun before it’s time for bed on Saturday, or after school, I’ve got to help you!” Reiner laughs, and accepts this logic. He doesn’t need to know the truth, that Bertholdt rushes through his own chores so that he can go and offer to help Reiner with his. He loves helping Reiner, with anything. He doesn’t know why it makes him happy to do so. He’s always been a helpful boy. It makes him feel really good when his mother and father praise him for being such a help to them, or when the schoolmaster thanks him for assisting in cleaning the little one-room schoolhouse. But more than any of those things, Bertholdt loves helping Reiner. He likes to imagine that he has no choice. That he belongs to Reiner somehow, and that Reiner has ordered him to do it. There’s something wrong with him, probably, but he doesn’t care.

Carefully, painstakingly, he mends the tear in Reiner’s new pants with tiny, neat stitches that are barely visible unless you really squint. Reiner’s mother will probably notice when she washes them, but since she won’t be the one who had to mend them, she’s not likely to get angry. Reiner’s parents aren’t abusive, but they’re pretty strict. Taking care of their things is something they expect of their children, and woe to any of the small handful of younger Brauns who treats the things their parents work so hard to provide carelessly or disrespectfully. The elder Brauns believe quite strongly that sparing the rod will spoil the child. Bertholdt has even been present on more than one occasion when one of the Braun children has been punished. Mrs. Braun’s favorite implements of punishment are her wooden-backed hairbrush and her big wooden spoon she uses to stir soup and stew and beans on the cast iron cookstove. Mr. Braun uses his thick leather belt. More often it’s Reiner’s little brother or sister in trouble, as Reiner is a respectful, obedient son, but a couple of times Bertholdt was there, playing with Reiner when his mother or father would say in that ominous tone of voice, “Reiner Braun! Come here at once!”

It was both the most horrible and the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen, the two times it happened in his presence. The Brauns don’t give a fig if someone’s there to see. If a child commits a sin, punishment is immediate. If they didn’t want someone to see their bare bottoms, they wouldn’t misbehave in front of company. Poor Reiner had begged his mother not to spank him in front of Bertl the first time, but that had only made it worse. She’d scolded him even harder, and yanked his drawstring pants all the way to his ankles, making him bend over the kitchen table, then shoved his shirt up his back to expose his backside. Bertholdt had been unable to look away, even though he desperately wished to spare his best friend this humiliation. They’d been eleven the first time. He could see Reiner’s immature penis hanging down between his legs. His mama had wiped off the big spoon she’d been using to stir the heavy iron pot of stew on the stove. Reiner had kept his eyes pinned to the tabletop, his face beet red with embarrassment. His mother had then spanked him with the back of that spoon, fast and hard, up and down both cheeks of his round bottom and down the backs of his legs. Bertholdt had cringed with every loud smack, his heart aching for his friend as Reiner had gasped and cried out in pain and finally begun to cry. It hadn’t been a terribly long spanking, nor even as hard as it had seemed to him at the time. She never left bruises on her offspring’s backsides, just made them red and hot, but it had seemed horrible to Bertholdt. He’d wished he could take the spanking in Reiner’s stead, to spare his idol the pain and embarrassment of it. Mrs. Braun had helped Reiner pull his pants up when it had been over, and patted his back, admonishing him that he was a good boy but he needed to pay more attention sometimes. He’d wiped his eyes and said he was sorry. Bertholdt doesn’t even remember what it was Reiner had done to earn the spanking, but he’s determined to mend Reiner’s pants so perfectly that there will be no chance of him being punished for tearing them. Reiner had given Bertholdt a stricken look, and fled the house. He’d run after him, following him to the barn, where he’d found Reiner lying on the big haystack inside the door, sobbing in pain and humiliation. He’d gone to him and thrown himself down beside Reiner, hugging him tightly. Reiner had struggled at first.

“No, no,” he’d cried, pushing against Bertholdt. “Go away, don’t look at me like this!”

“Reiner, I don’t care! I’m so sorry,” Bertholdt had said, holding on tighter, starting to cry himself. “I’m so sorry! I wish she’d have spanked me instead!”

“No you don’t. It really hurts!”

“I don’t care! I’d take a hundred whippings for you, Reiner. You’re my best friend.”

“Oh God, I can’t believe you saw me like that, you must think I’m such a baby,” Reiner had mourned, but he’d stopped trying to make Bertholdt let go of him.

“I don’t, I don’t! You’re the bravest person I know. It must’ve hurt so bad. Oh Reiner, I’m so sorry. I…I’ll go home if you want me to…” He’d held his breath, waiting.

“N-no. I want you to stay,” Reiner had said, his face hidden in his folded arms, sniffling, his voice thick with tears and snot. “Just…just don’t tell anybody what you saw.”

“Never, I promise,” Bertholdt had sworn, and he’d kept his promise. Reiner hadn’t even needed to ask. Bertl would have faced torture rather than betray his friend’s humiliation to anyone. And aside from that, Bertl would keep the sight of it stored away deep inside. He’d never admit it to Reiner, but he thought about that spanking many, many times after that. Not for the punishment itself, which made him feel achingly sad for his dearest love, but for the sight of Reiner’s body, so exposed and tender and vulnerable. That night he’d experienced his first wet dream.

A few months after they’d both turned 12, Reiner in August and Bertholdt in December, Reiner and Bertholdt had gone to Reiner’s house after school, to find Reiner’s little sister on her hands and knees on the floor, sobbing while she tried to clean up the shards of a little china shepherdess that had sat on the mantelpiece over the Braun fireplace. Reiner’s face had gone pale when he saw it. Bertholdt hadn’t understood the big deal.

“That figurine was Mama’s most prized possession. Papa gave it to her when they were kids together, for her birthday when they were 14, when he told her he loved her for the first time. We’re not allowed to touch it. Only Mama ever dusts the mantle. Klara, what were you thinking?”

“I…I-I only wanted to p-play with her for a minute!” The little girl’s face was blotchy with tears, her eyes wide and glassy with fear. “Mama’s going to kill me!”

“I…I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Bertholdt had said awkwardly. Reiner had shaken his head solemnly.

“They won’t kill her of course, but Papa’s going to give her the worst whipping of her life. You don’t understand how much that thing means to my parents, Bertl. Klara…listen to me. I’m going to say I broke it.”

“Reiner,” she’d gasped, “you can’t!”

“Yes I can, and I’m going to. I’m bigger and stronger than you, and I can take it better. You keep your mouth shut, or I’ll…I’ll…well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but you won’t like it. Promise me, Klara!”

It had taken some convincing, but the little girl had, in the end, agreed, because she was honestly terrified of the punishment for committing such an unpardonable sin. Bertholdt had tentatively offered to say that _he_ had broken the little shepherdess, but Reiner had sternly ordered him not to, telling him that though his parents indeed could not punish Bertholdt physically, they would banish him from their home and probably tell Reiner he wasn’t allowed to play with Bertholdt again, and Reiner said he couldn’t bear that. Not wanting to see what would happen to Reiner, Bertholdt had gotten up to gather his things and go home. But it had been too late. Mr. and Mrs. Braun had opened the door and found their son and daughter still picking up the pieces of the china shepherdess. Amid all the yelling and Mrs. Braun’s tears, he’d tried to slip out the door, but Mr. Braun had seen him and ordered him to stay put.

The whipping Reiner’s father gave him that day was something Bertholdt could never forget, but the memory of it was _never_ something he brought out to think of later. Nor did it come back to him in dreams, except perhaps as a nightmare. He still remembers the sound of Reiner screaming. He’d accidentally walked in on Reiner changing clothes in his room a week later, and the marks had still been there. Even Mrs. Braun had finally been horrified, and had put her hand on her furious husband’s arm to stop him. He’d looked down at his hysterical son and gone pale. He’d dropped his belt on the floor and fallen to his knees, taking Reiner in his arms.

“Oh God, my son. My son, forgive me…”

Bertholdt had taken his chance while they were distracted and fled, running as fast as he could until he’d reached the safety of his own family’s little barn. He’d climbed on shaking limbs into the hay loft and hidden there, sobbing out his grief and anguish over Reiner’s torment. It had made him feel sick. About an hour later, red-eyed and still trembling, Reiner had found him there, and climbed up to the loft. He’d tried to sit beside Bertholdt, but all the color had leached from his face and he’d cried out in pain. Scrambling, Bertholdt had made a pile of loose hay and laid a big woolen horse blanket over it, and helped Reiner lie down on his stomach. He’d lain down beside his friend, being careful not to touch him, but wanting to be close and to offer what comfort he could. But Reiner had turned on his side and thrown his arms around Bertholdt, starting to cry again. Bertholdt had tentatively wrapped his own arms around Reiner and held him close while he sobbed forlornly. It had been a terrible loss of innocence, being hurt so badly by someone he’d trusted to protect him. Reiner’s father had felt terrible, but the damage to his son had already been done. For a very long time after that, Reiner would flinch whenever his father reached out to touch him. Bertholdt felt bad for the pain and guilt he could see on Mr. Braun’s face when that happened, but he also believed that the man deserved it. He’d lost his temper and beaten his son in anger; someone he was supposed to take care of. The only good thing that had come out of that day was that Mr. Braun never physically punished his children again after that. He and Reiner had eventually mended their relationship, but Bertholdt doesn’t think he’s ever completely forgiven the man for hurting Reiner so badly. But he’d never regretted Reiner turning to him for comfort. He’s never held his friend like that again. They’ve hugged many times, but he’s held the memory of Reiner in his arms close to his heart ever since that day, the feel of his sturdy young body pressed against Bertl’s, the way Reiner’s warm breath had felt on his neck…

***

Now, at 17, he still finds as many chances as he can to help Reiner with his chores, and the soap he uses to wash their clothes reminds him of holding Reiner in his arms that day. The scent of his hair and the soap his mother had used on their family’s clothing, the clean smell of hay…He lifts the dark green shirt to his face and sniffs deeply, closing his eyes. He still loves Reiner as much as he ever has. More, in fact. Reiner still has no idea, and Bertholdt intends that he never will. He tells himself every day that it is enough that Reiner is his best friend, and that he is able to offer him small acts of service such as washing and ironing his clothes for him, and keeping his bunk made up neatly for inspection. Commander Shadis has _never_ found a reason to dress Reiner down during an inspection.

Bertholdt’s dreams of being owned, of serving Reiner, have expanded considerably since he was 12. He understands the concepts of sex now, and knows that two men can love one another in ways similar to those in which a man can love a woman. But Reiner has never given him any indication that this sort of thing appeals to him, so Bertholdt has told no one that he’s gay. He can’t bear the thought of losing Reiner’s friendship, of causing any unease between them. But his fantasies have gotten much more detailed than the innocent dreams of a young boy. The tight straps of the harnesses for their 3 Dimensional Maneuver Gear, the first time he learned to put it on correctly, felt delicious to Bertholdt in a way nothing else ever has. Everyone complains about them, bemoaning the bruises the straps leave on everyone’s bodies under their clothing. Bertholdt likes to softly trace the dark shadows on his skin when he’s alone. Especially when he’s alone at night, and his hand steals down between his legs to gently stroke the shaft of his aching cock. The sensation of them, bound so tightly around him, is utter perfection to him. He wishes he could find a place and time to put the harness on while he’s naked, to see what it would feel like on his skin. He likes to imagine Reiner binding him up the way the harness makes him feel bound, only tighter. Much tighter, and in such a way that he can’t move his arms and legs. Rendering him helpless. Holding him down, and then…

He shakes his head, lowering Reiner’s shirt and smoothing it back down across the ironing board. He presses the heel of his hand hard against his stiffening cock. He’d better be careful about when and where he lets these kinds of thoughts get away from him, or somebody will start to suspect things! _I must never let it show,_ he thinks to himself, frowning severely at his own lack of self-control. He promises himself he’ll never let Reiner see how he feels. And he keeps that promise to himself. Until the night after the Commander decides everyone has mastered their gear well enough to be allowed to actually try it out for the first time, on a short training exercise outside the facility, where a huge dummy titan has been built between some military storehouses.

The exercise is an unqualified success. Everyone does their job well, and it’s exhilarating beyond words to soar through the air at dizzying speeds with blades drawn. There are no accidents. They fight as a unit, and for once, Commander Shadis praises them before they’re dismissed. Their stern-faced trainer even almost smiles when he tells them their curfew is lifted for this one night, but that if any of them are late for roll call in the morning, they can expect to be cleaning out latrines with their toothbrushes. Amid all the cheering, Bertholdt has serious doubts as to whether everyone even hears him.

He has no idea who manages to get the cask of hard cider. It’s probably Jean. His family lives nearby, and if there’s trouble to be had, Jean is usually a part of it. They laugh and cheer and celebrate, reliving every moment of the successful maneuver, praising themselves and bragging. Tonight, they are giants. Heroes. Slightly tipsy heroes, by the end of the night’s revelry, although there’s not enough cider in the cask for anyone to get really drunk, except for maybe tiny Armin, Krista or Connie. He’s pretty sure Connie’s actually kind of trashed, but Armin and Krista are both too responsible to do more than slowly sip their drinks. There are card games, and singing, and dancing...it is a lot of fun, but after a while, Bertholdt’s head is spinning and he’s starting to feel tired. Quietly, he slips out of the big common room and heads for the necessary to wash his face. He doesn’t hear anyone behind him until he’s suddenly grabbed by the back of his harness. He almost lashes out at whoever he is as he’s being spun around, but then he recognizes Reiner’s big, booming laugh and relaxes.

“Aha! And just where do you think _you’re_ going, my…” cries Reiner, but then he freezes.

When Reiner finishes spinning Bertholdt around, he grabs him again by the _front_ of his harness, his big hands fisted around the shoulder straps, shoving Bertholdt against the wall in his jovial state of mild inebriation. It pulls the leather straps even tighter, making them dig painfully into Bertholdt’s flesh through his blue t-shirt. He’s completely unprepared for the assault, and as a result, he doesn’t have time to control his reaction. Heat flares in his belly and his cock hardens instantly, and painfully. His pupils dilate and his lips part. He moans softly, his head thunking gently against the wall, and a shudder wracks his tall, lanky frame. Reiner’s voice trails off and he goes very, very still. Suddenly, Bertholdt realizes what he’s done. Shame turns his face bright red, followed very closely by horror that drains all the blood right back out, leaving him pale and cold. There is no way on earth Reiner can mistake his reaction for anything other than what it is. His heart splinters at the sight of the utter shock on his friend’s face.

“Reiner, oh God,” he whispers miserably. He’s ruined everything. Reiner will never speak to him again after this. God, he’s so stupid. “I...please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...let me expla…”

“Shut. Up,” growls Reiner softly. Instead of letting go of Bertholdt like he’s been scalded, Reiner clenches his fists tighter. Bertholdt is expecting repudiation. This anger, it’s terrifying. What it Reiner wants to beat him up? _I’ll let him,_ thinks Bertholdt bleakly. _I deserve it for hiding a secret so disgusting from him all this time!_

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes. Reiner’s fists yank a little, jerking Bertholdt off the wall, then slam him back up against it. He’s not ready for that either, and his head hits the wall a little harder this time.

“Bertl,” says Reiner softly. But he isn’t pulling away. In fact, he’s kind of crowding Bertholdt. No, he’s...he’s _leaning against him_. Oh God. The heat of his body from all the dancing and celebration soaks right through Bertholdt’s clothes. Oh, it isn’t _fair_! “I didn’t know,” murmurs Reiner, his golden brown eyes intent on Bertholdt’s face, searching. Bertholdt lifts his own clouded hazel eyes and returns the look cautiously. What does Reiner mean? Can it be that he’s not repulsed? Maybe he’ll be willing to forgive and forget, maybe there’s a chance that they can go on as they were! Maybe….May…

His heart seizes in his chest and his breath hitches as he becomes aware of something that turns his entire world upside down. Reiner’s body is now pressed very firmly against his own, so the sensation is unmistakable. Reiner’s cock is rock hard and digging into his thigh. Bertholdt lets out a tiny sob and his heart starts to beat again, hammering wildly against the inside of his ribs.

“R-Reiner?” he asks. It is practically a whimper.

“I think,” says Reiner meditatively, cocking his head to the side a little, “in fact I’m almost positive that I told you…” He yanks on Bertholdt’s harness straps, drawing their faces closer together. “To shut...up.” 

He yanks again, and smashes his mouth into Bertholdt’s so hard Bertholdt is pretty sure he tastes blood. This time he does whimper as Reiner’s mouth opens, his tongue coming out to tease for just a moment along the seam of Bertl’s lips. He gasps, and Reiner’s tongue licks inside to claim his mouth. He tastes like cider; the sharp bite of alcohol and crisp flavor of apples, sweet and tart and delicious. Bertholdt moans helplessly, his knees beginning to tremble. Reiner kisses just the way he’s always imagined he would, forcefully, but not messily, his tongue stroking silkily against Bertholdt’s tongue, his teeth, the roof of his mouth. He backs off often, turning the kiss into a tease, the tip of his tongue flicking softly, tauntingly at Bertl’s lips and his own tongue when he opens his mouth for more. He takes the taller boy’s bottom lip into his mouth and suckles gently on it while Bertholdt whines softly in his throat, then sets his teeth very softly around the plump flesh. His eyes open, slitted and hot, watching Bertholdt intently as he slowly starts to bear down. Bertholdt stands very still, trembling, as he feels the hard ridge of Reiner’s teeth begin to press against his lip. One of Reiner’s eyebrows lifts in question, and Bertholdt moans his approval with a tiny nod. More pressure, and it gradually becomes a real bite. Bertholdt whimpers and his hands come up to try to find some support on Reiner’s broad shoulders.

Reiner snarls softly between his teeth. He lets go of Bertholdt’s harness with one hand and slaps it onto Bertholdt’s wrist, jerking his hand over his head and slamming it hard against the wall. A tiny cock of his head and a significant glance upwards communicates perfectly clearly to Bertholdt what he wants. Obediently, he raises his other hand so that Reiner can grip both of them in his powerful grasp. He squeezes tightly, grinding both wrists together hard. Bertholdt makes a sound of deep approval in his chest. Reiner bites harder, and now it starts to hurt a little. Bertholdt’s cock throbs inside the too-tight confines of his uniform pants. He ruts gently against Reiner, who shoves his hips _hard_ against Bertholdt’s in response, smashing his back into the wall so hard it aches. When Bertholdt begins to let out little urgent noises, Reiner chuckles and lets go of his lip. It throbs in time with the pounding of his heart, on the razor’s edge of bleeding. Reiner kisses him softly then, licking away the sting, and then deepening it once again. Bertholdt is trembling violently now, on the verge of coming in his pants. Just when he thinks he’s going to completely humiliate himself, Reiner pulls back, panting, to look him in the eyes. His honeyed gaze burns into Bertholdt like hot coals.

“Why didn’t I know, Bertl?” he asks.

“I...I’m…”

“If you say you’re sorry, I’ll bite your lip the fuck off next time,” warns Reiner. Bertholdt gulps. He’d always imagined that Reiner would be forceful with him. It turns out his imagination wasn’t even slightly equal to that task!

“Yes, Sir,” he says meekly. Reiner’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “I...I thought you’d hate me if you knew. I...I’ve always wanted this, Reiner. Since we were kids. I’ve wanted to be yours as long as I can remember.”

“And when you say ‘mine,’” says Reiner curiously, “what does that mean to you?”

“I’ve always belonged to you. I...I want to do things for you. Like the ones I’ve always done. Y-your laundry, and keeping your harness repaired, and keeping things clean for you. Bringing you dinner if you don’t feel like having it in the mess hall. But...but not because I just do them. Be...because you order me to.” He drops his eyes, face flushing, unable to meet that knowing gaze anymore. It’s so exposing. 

“You’re my best friend, Bertholdt,” says Reiner. There’s concern in his voice, but no censure. Bertholdt dares a tiny peek at Reiner’s face. He looks a little confused, and concerned, but he doesn’t look at all repulsed. And the hard ridge of his erection hasn’t softened a bit. Far from it. Bertholdt holds his breath, hardly daring to hope. He still expects to be rejected at any turn. Surely what he wants, what he’s dreamed of his whole life, will shock and offend Reiner, even if it doesn’t outright disgust him. “I...it’s hard to imagine. I consider you my...my right hand. My partner in almost everything we do. Oh Bertl...I’ve thought of kissing you for so many years now. I feel like we’re both incredible fools that we never said anything, never even _hinted_ about what we felt. But I don’t think of you as...as less than me in some kind of way. You...you sound like you’re talking about having me order you around like some kind of...some kind of...of…”

“Like your slave,” whispers Bertholdt. There is a bleak sort of bitterness in his voice. Reiner’s eyes narrow at the sound of it.

“Don’t,” he says sharply. Bertholdt blinks in surprise at the whiplash tone. “Don’t stand there and act like a whipped puppy. I didn’t say no, Bertl.”

“You...you mean?” gasps the taller boy. If his poor stomach flips and flops back and forth between hope and despair many more times, he’s pretty sure he’s going to throw up. 

“I want you,” answers Reiner. His deep voice is low and thick with intent. Bertholdt shivers. “I have wanted you for a long time. To have you, to satisfy this ache I’ve carried around inside me for so many years, there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do. To see you smile, to make you happy and know I’m the cause of it? Bertholdt, I want that more than I can even begin to tell you. Bertl...this isn’t...a moment of lust brought on by...by excitement and too much cider. _I love you_! I have loved you so long I can’t even remember when it started! If...if serving me like I own you somehow...if that’s what makes you happy? Then my answer’s _yes_ , Bertl.”

Bertholdt gasps again. Tears fill his eyes and spill over, silent silvered sparkles on his golden skin in the soft moonlight coming through the window over Reiner’s shoulder. They are tears of joy. He opens his mouth, but for a moment no words come out. What Reiner has just said to him is too enormous for words. It is everything he has ever dreamed of in his entire life, for Reiner is all his dreams. Something clicks in his throat when he swallows, and then he finds his voice.

“Reiner...oh my God...I love you. I love you too. I’ve always loved you. All I want is to make you happy. To be yours in every way.”

“In _every_ way?” asks Reiner, his voice a low, rumbling growl.

“Oh God, please. Please. I’ve thought about...about serving you...obeying you...in other ways for….well, for about as long as I’ve understood what an erection was!” Bertholdt laughs a little wildly through his tears. Reiner chuckles, but his hand on Bertholdt’s wrists tightens again, and Bertholdt lets out a soft groan.

“Serving me, hm?” purrs Reiner, cocking an eyebrow and grinning crookedly. “So...if I told you I wanted you to get down on your knees and…” He lets out a short, startled exclamation when Bertholdt’s wrists are torn from his grasp by the entirety of Bertholdt’s body weight yanking on them as he falls instantly to his knees and reaches for Reiner’s belt without a moment’s hesitation. “Fuck!” His epithet is fervent and heartfelt. “Bertl, you…”

Bertholdt ignores him. It’s the closest thing to an order Reiner has given him, and is the fuel of every fantasy he’s had since he was about 13 years old. He leans forward and presses his mouth to the hard length of Reiner’s cock straining at the front of his pants. He mouths it earnestly, whining softly in the back of his throat. His eyes water when his head is yanked back by his hair.

“Stop,” hisses Reiner. Bertholdt goes instantly still, pliant and calmly expectant, looking up at Reiner with peaceful certainty in his lust-blown hazel eyes. “Shit, you’re really serious. Bertholdt, you...you can’t know how hot this is. You’d do it. You’d really do it. You’d _blow_ me right here in this hallway where anybody could walk in at any moment.”

“Yes,” says Bertholdt solemnly. “and they could all watch, every last one of them.”

“You wouldn’t be embarrassed?”

“There’s nothing I’d do for you that would make me feel ashamed, Reiner. Not if it made you happy.”

“Bertl...I don’t...I wouldn’t want you to...to debase yourself….humiliate yourself for me… That’s…”

“You don’t understand,” says Bertholdt, smiling at him. “It wouldn’t debase me, or be humiliating. Knowing that you love me, that...that how I feel matters to you...that you value me as your friend and...and as your...oh _God_....as your lover...your boy? There’s no shame. I don’t know if I can explain it. It’s...it’s...for me, to finally get to be yours...and in all of the ways that I’ve always _dreamed_? They wouldn’t even exist for me. I’ve...I feel like I’ve always been here on my knees, Reiner. Waiting. And now…” A tiny sob escapes his lips. “Now you see me. And...and you’re not turning away.”

“Okay,” says Reiner on a huge exhale. “I don’t….Bertholdt, stand up...I’d…” He pauses in what he’s saying and goggles a little at the way Bertholdt instantly pops to his feet and stands waiting, expectantly. “Fuck, Bertl! Do you have _any_ idea how incredibly hot that shit is? I don’t understand it all, not really. I can’t imagine why you’d really want to...to be owned like that. For me to...to boss you around. How that’s not...belittling for you. I’m pretty scared I’m going to fuck it up. But...but I believe you when you say it’s what you want. And I...I do understand a little, when you say that...that no one else would exist for you, because I feel like I’ve been waiting forever too, and I feel like...right now I could climb up on top of that damn harness training frame and yell as loud as I can, ‘I’m gay for my best friend Bertholdt!’ for the whole world to hear...and I wouldn’t care what they thought about it. So...so we’ll figure it out, okay? I want...I want to give you this, Bertholdt. I want you to always look at me like you’re doing right now. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to do it right most of the time. I don’t understand exactly...what you need...or why. But I’ll learn. For you, I’ll learn. And…” he reaches out and takes Bertholdt’s hand. “And I’m pretty sure I’m not going to mind learning, because when you got on your knees just now, because I said so...I swear to God I almost came in my pants.”

“I almost did too,” says Bertholdt shyly. 

“But right now...tonight...Bertl...will you...can I...I really want…”

“Reiner?” whispers Bertholdt as Reiner fumbles for words.

“Yes?”

“Will you fuck me please?”

“OhdearGodyes,” gasps Reiner. Not letting go of Bertholdt’s hand, he turns and practically sprints for the back door of the bunk house. He pauses for a moment when they get outside, looking around wildly.

“The...the stable?” Bertholdt makes the first suggestion that pops into his head. Reiner shakes his.

“No...too many people go there for that. Sasha and Connie’re already missing, bet my life that’s where they are. No...wait! I know!” He turns on his heel and yanks Bertholdt after him. They stumble hurriedly through the dark, trying not to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. Bertholdt does laugh when he realizes where Reiner is leading him, and has to clap his free hand over his mouth to stifle it. Reiner glances over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

“Be quiet, Bertl,” he hisses. “We may not have a curfew, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t extend to losing your virginity in the laundry. Damn, that’s going to take some getting used to,” he adds, shaking his head in amazement when Bertholdt stops laughing and falls abruptly silent, as though he were a violin and had his strings suddenly cut in mid-note. “Incidentally, what’s so funny about the laundry?” He eases the door open and they slip inside the big, long single room that is the trainee corps laundry facility. The big boiler in the middle of the far wall provides hot water to a dozen big, mounted wash tubs on pintle mounts that can be turned by the heavy iron wheels welded to their sides. A single, large gear makes the wheel rotate the tubs. Trainees are in charge of doing their own laundry, including their bedding, and usually combine the chore with a friend or two, to make the laborious process less tedious. Reiner has always offered to share the burden with Bertholdt, but he’s always insisted he likes doing it, which is true.

“It’s not funny, really,” whispers Bertholdt. “It’s just that...since we got here, I’ve spent more time dreaming of you in this building than any other place except my bed.”

“Then it’s a good choice,” says Reiner, turning to face him. He looks suddenly uncertain. He takes a hesitant step towards Bertholdt. “Bertl…” he whispers, “I...I’ve never done this...not anything like this before….”

“Neither have I,” Bertholdt whispers back. Somehow, Reiner’s hesitancy makes it seem more real, and Bertholdt is seized by a sudden and exquisite terror. It’s not the kind of fear that makes one want to run and hide, but rather the kind of delicious fear one feels in suspenseful moments. Because it becomes very, very real to him that actually having sex with Reiner and fulfilling the aching dreams of the past 5 years means that Reiner is going to...to...put….and when Bertholdt had knelt and put his lips against it through Reiner’s trousers….it’s awfully…. _awfully_ big...isn’t it? But then Reiner takes another step, and they’re kissing again. Everything that had been impossible yesterday is possible now, and Bertholdt’s nervousness evaporates. They are here, and that’s all that matters.

Reiner leads him to the back of the big building. There are bins here in which the soiled towels from the showers and tablecloths and aprons from the kitchens are brought to be washed. Often the pile to be washed is pretty sizeable, and most of the time the towels and tablecloths aren’t terribly dirty. They make a perfectly comfortable litter out of the mound of laundry waiting to be washed, then cover it with one of the clean tablecloths. Bertholdt feels mildly guilty that now it will have to be washed again, but Reiner kisses him and he forgets it. Now Reiner’s hands are on the buckles of his harness. He lifts shaking hands to unbuckle Reiner’s in return, but Reiner shakes his head.

“Ah...no, Bertl,” he admonishes softly, grasping Bertholdt’s wrists and placing them back by his sides. “I don’t want you to touch me yet. I want to look at you.”

“Yes, Reiner,” whispers Bertholdt. Reiner lowers the straps off Bertholdt’s shoulders and lets them hang by his hips. 

“Someday soon, we’re going to have...the place and time where I can take off all your clothes. See you...spread out on a bed...naked for me. Touch you everywhere. See...what belongs to me,” Reiner tells him as he pulls Bertholdt’s shirt over his head. Bertl shivers and moans softly at the thought of it, and the spell Reiner’s words weave over him. Reiner sinks to his knees, and Bertholdt lets out a muffled sound of protest at the sight of it. Reiner glances up at him, his eyes fierce.

“Oh? Do you have a complaint?”

“It’s just...I don’t want you to kneel for me, Reiner. It’s….it feels wrong, somehow.”

“I’m inspecting my property,” growls Reiner, even though his cheeks flush pink when he says it, evidence of how awkward it makes him feels. It isn’t awkward to Bertholdt at all. He gasps and his cock throbs inside his pants. “But since you don’t like it, I’ll just make sure you can’t complain anymore.” He leans over and plucks a clean napkin off a folded stack. Getting to his feet, he crams it into Bertholdt’s mouth. Bertholdt grinds his teeth into the cloth and groans. Reiner spins him suddenly. He staggers a little and nearly falls, but Reiner’s hands on his hips steady him. Suddenly, the strong hands he’s dreamed of for so long are grabbing his wrists and yanking them behind his back. Bertholdt makes a muffled sound of protest into his makeshift gag, and tries to pull his hands from Reiner’s grasp. Reiner doesn’t let go, but he stops for a moment.

“Bertl, I’m going to take out the gag for a minute, okay? I want to ask you something, and I want you to be honest, all right?” Bertholdt nods vehemently. Reiner reaches up and pulls the napkin out. Bertholdt licks his lips a little. Reiner lets go of him completely, which makes him feel just a little bit bereft, and then comes to stand in front of him, looking up earnestly into Bertholdt’s eyes.

“You fought me just now,” he says slowly, frowning a little.

“I’m sorry,” whispers Bertholdt. Reiner frowns harder, and shakes his head.

“Stop. Don’t apologize. Help me understand. I don’t want to...hurt you, or upset you. I won’t try to restrain you again...I just….”

“Reiner wait, please,” says Bertholdt quickly, biting his lip and wincing a little at himself for interrupting. But Reiner obviously doesn’t mind at all, and just looks at him curiously. “The… the idea of being restrained by you...oh God. I...I want that _so much_. You have no idea.”

 

“So...why did you pull your hands away?” At Bertholdt’s stricken expression, Reiner’s hand gently cups the side of his face. Bertholdt turns into the caress, nuzzling into Reiner’s hand. He sighs.

“I...oh God, it’s so much harder to say these things out loud than it is to think about them,” he says, frustrated and embarrassed.

“If…” Reiner frowns again and speaks slowly, as if he’s thinking very hard about each word. “If you...belong to me...as you said. And...and you said you could...could blow me in front of everyone and not care...then...then shouldn’t it be just as easy to tell me what you need? Because I’m asking you to?”

Bertholdt blinks in surprise. 

“You’re right,” he says, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re absolutely right. Thank you, Reiner. It’s...I don’t understand _why_ I feel this way, all right? I can’t explain why, so it’s not...me not wanting to tell you. I’m just not sure myself. I...I want you to make me feel helpless. I’ve imagined...you tying me down...so many times. But I have to fight it, I need to struggle. Even though I want to obey you, Reiner...I want to do the things you want, and make you happy. It isn’t about...disobeying. I will always stop struggling the moment you tell me to. But...but I want...I want it to be _real_ when you restrain me. I...I’m sorry if it doesn’t make any sense. I’m not sure it does to me either!”

Reiner grins, and the smile is a little bit wicked, and Bertholdt loves it, loves the little shiver it gives him.

“Oh, I think it makes sense. You’re very strong, Bertl. If you think it’d be a turn-on to be helpless...not to _pretend_ to be helpless, then...well of course it’s got to be real. And I’m the only person who can give that to you. Because I’m stronger than you. So okay. You go ahead and struggle. It won’t matter. But...but I need…” He pauses and scratches his head a little. “I just don’t know how all of this works. I want a way for you to let me know if you really do need me to stop, okay? Even if you’re gagged.”

Bertholdt frowns, thinking hard while he looks around the room. He can’t imagine needing Reiner to stop, but he falls even more in love with him for thinking about Bertholdt’s safety. It’s just so perfectly Reiner, to always think about things like that. His eyes fall on a small pile of parts for one of the washers. Two quick strides take him to the small bench where they’re sitting. He plucks up a couple of nuts and bolts and returns to Reiner, who looks confused.

“I can drop these,” he offers tentatively, opening his hand to show the bits of metal there. “They’ll make noise when they hit the floor, do you see?” Reiner’s frown clears.

“Of course! That’s a great idea. That’s really good, Bertholdt!” 

Bertl flushes with pleasure at the praise coming from the one person he’s always wanted to hear it from the most. He nods and closes his fingers around the nuts and bolts. It turns out to be just in time, too.

“But you’re probably going to have to _throw_ them instead of just dropping them,” growls Reiner, and before Bertholdt can open his mouth to ask what he means by that, Reiner grabs him by his upper arms, his fingers digging into the lean muscle there, and he sweeps Bertholdt’s feet out from under him, following him to the floor on top of the impromptu mattress they’ve constructed, planting his knee in the small of Bertholdt’s back. Bertholdt grunt, the air momentarily knocked out of his lungs, then he starts to struggle madly. He’s taller than Reiner, and has a longer reach, but on his stomach like this, neither of those things are an advantage at all. Reiner is heavier and stronger, and slowly forces Bertholdt’s arms behind his back. He strains with all his might to prevent it, panting as Reiner overpowers him, his hips rocking with a will of their own. It grinds his ass against Reiner’s crotch where his erection tightens the front of his pants, and ruts his own aching cock against the mounds of cloth beneath him. No matter how hard he pulls, he can’t escape Reiner’s grasp. Oh, he’d known it would be like this, known Reiner would be this strong, truly able to give him what he’s only imagined until now. He growls and shakes his head in denial even as his cock grows impossibly _harder_ when Reiner uses the straps of his own gear to lash his forearms and wrists together behind his back. Bertholdt pulls as hard as he can, but the leather is meant to not only bear their weight as they soar through the air, but to hold up under the momentum their bodies build up at dizzying velocity. He’s not breaking these straps, not if he tears his own arms from their sockets. He’s never felt this way, except in his own fantasies. He feels a moment of near-panic as the realization that he can’t free his arms actually sets in, but it’s fleeting. He relaxes, laying his cheek against the rough canvas of the tablecloth, breathing hard. The weight of Reiner’s body holds him down, their legs tangled together, Reiner’s hardness pressing against his ass, and he whimpers softly.

“Reiner,” he breathes. Reiner’s lips brush the back of his neck, warm and soft, and he shivers, moaning.

“You’re mine,” whispers Reiner against his skin, his breath warm on Bertholdt’s neck, just like it had been when they were twelve, in the loft of the Hoovers’ barn. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and his breath hitches in his chest.

“Y-yes,” he gasps. “I’ve al-always been yours. Oh...oh Reiner...please!”

Reiner raises up and kneels over Bertholdt’s thighs. His hands work underneath the taller boy’s hips, aided by Bertl lifting his bottom in the air and arching his back. Reiner’s hands fumble a little because he can’t see what he’s doing, but he gets Bertholdt’s belt unbuckled and his flies undone. Then, scooting down his legs a little, tugs his pants and harness straps slowly over his ass and down his thighs. There’s enough slack in the leather belts for this not to pull too hard on the bindings around Bertholdt’s arms, but he feels it a little, tugging, putting just a little strain on his shoulders, and it’s exquisite. He waits, trembling, for whatever Reiner is going to do next. And waits. Nervously, wondering if perhaps Reiner has changed his mind, he looks over his shoulder and peers up at his friend, worried that now he’s going to see the rejection he’d feared from the beginning. Reiner sits frozen over the backs of Bertholdt’s knees. His golden eyes have gone almost black with lust. When they meet Bertl’s tentative look, he feels as though he’s pinned to the floor, as though he can’t breathe under the weight of it. He’s always been taller than Reiner. Has, in fact, almost always been taller than everyone. He’s even been taller than his own father since he was 13. But this look, the heat and hunger and possession in Reiner’s eyes makes him feel like he’s something small and fragile. It isn’t a bad feeling, because that look also promises to keep him safe.

“ _Mine_ ,” snarls Reiner, and then the almost enraged expression on his craggy features softens. “Bertl...you’re so fucking beautiful. I can hardly believe I can actually touch you…”

“I really wish you would,” whispers Bertholdt plaintively, “because I think I might die…”

Reiner barks out a surprised laugh and then claps his hand over his own mouth. His other hand splays over the middle of Bertholdt’s back. The palm of his hand and his fingers feel cool on Bertholdt’s fevered skin. He shivers and lets out another helpless moan. Reiner’s hand slides down his back, leaving prickles of gooseflesh in its wake. It is new, because Reiner has never touched his bare skin (except for his hands, of course), and feels wonderful. But when that touch hesitates for just a moment and then glides up the swell of his hip and over his ass, Bertholdt quivers all over with joy and terror. He hears Reiner let out a soft gasp as well, and can feel his fingers trembling just a little as they brush gently over his skin. On the backs of his thighs, the touch tickles a little, but Bertholdt is in no danger of laughing. He can’t _breathe_ enough to laugh. His soft, shocked cry pulls another of the soft growls out of Reiner that he’s pretty sure are becoming his favorite sound in the entire world when his hands carefully press Bertholdt’s legs as far apart as the trap of his pants around his knees will allow. Reiner’s fingers slowly and reverently slide over the soft skin between Bertholdt’s thighs. He whimpers Reiner’s name when his best friend gently cups the weight of his balls in his hand and then teases fingertips along the shaft of his cock.

“I want to see you. Turn over,” says Reiner. It is awkward without the use of his arms, but Bertholdt loves that it’s difficult. Reiner has owned him, flesh and bone, body and soul, for many years. That he’s ready to claim his prize now is a miracle Bertholdt had never truly dreamed possible. He wants to obey Reiner, and it’s _thrilling_ when that obedience must be worked for. Biting his lip, he twists until he manages to turn himself over onto his back. His body’s weight on his shoulders is a little painful, but he doesn’t care. Revels in the ache of it, in fact. Reiner, however, is not so sanguine. He frowns and looks around, then grins triumphantly when he spies a wrapped bale of new linens in a corner. It’s about the size of a bale of hay, and bound much the same way, sent in bulk to replace torn and stained sheets as they’re needed. He drags it over and helps Bertl sit up a little, then pushes it behind him. Now when he leans back, his head and shoulders rest on the bale and his arms are no longer crushed beneath him. It is more comfortable, but Bertholdt is quivering from head to toe with frustration at lying here, feeling so utterly helpless and exposed and being manhandled by his owner while Reiner ignores his nakedness. It’s so perfect he almost cries from happiness, though anyone else would probably take offense to being lugged about and treated like a piece of furniture. To Bertholdt it is delicious, but agonizing as well. Then all the spit seems to dry up in his mouth when Reiner is satisfied with his comfort and turns his eagle-eyed attention to Bertholdt’s trussed and helpless body, and the sight of his cock, dusky red and achingly hard, glistening with his need, the slick of it smeared over his belly. The muscles in his stomach jump with his harsh panting. His dark brown nipples are hard little peaks, painfully tight. Reiner’s thin lips slowly stretch into an evil smile.

He leans over Bertholdt, holding himself up on his hands so that their bodies don’t touch, and kisses him sweetly. Bertl whines softly into his mouth. The whine rises in pitch and volume and in desperation when fingers brush his right nipple teasingly. They stroke and press and gently pluck, and then close over the tight little nub and pinch. Hard. Bertholdt arches into the touch. His belly quivers and his cock twitches as pain and pleasure clash and twist inside his body. Reiner breaks the kiss and lowers his head while Bertholdt whimpers and shudders, his fingers opening and closing around his forearms inside the tight confines of his bonds. He cries out in shock when Reiner’s tongue curls around his other nipple. Warm, wet suction torments the sensitive flesh, then sharp teeth pinch. Oh, it’s too good. His back arches and his head falls back. Reiner chuckles softly and attacks Bertholdt’s neck, nipping and licking and biting all the places he finds that make Bertholdt shiver. When Reiner’s teeth close over the tendon in the side of his neck and his fingers close around Bertholdt’s quivering erection, it is more than he can take. He practically sobs out Reiner’s name, shaking from head to toe.

“Please, please! I can’t bear it! I don’t...I can’t…”

“Don’t you dare come, Bertl,” purrs Reiner, but he relents, and sits back on his heels over Bertholdt’s knees. The distraught, dark-haired boy looks at him entreatingly.

“Please, Reiner...let me...let me touch _you_ somehow.”

“Do you want me to untie you?” asks Reiner, leaning up to run his fingers through Bertholdt’s hair, a soft, teasing smile on his face.

“N-no,” cries Bertholdt, frustrated. Reiner’s smile takes a turn for the nastier side and Bertholdt swallows.

“Do you want to do what you were going to do in the hallway if I hadn’t stopped you?” Bertholdt gasps. He nods eagerly, but he’s not without some serious qualms. He doesn’t have the first clue how to service a man orally. What if he isn’t good at it? But it’s very quickly too late for his concerns, because Reiner scrambles to his feet and shrugs his chest harness off, then unfastens his flies and reaches into his trousers. With a huge sigh of relief, he tugs his cock free of their snug confines and nudges it towards Bertholdt’s lips. He has a few seconds while this is happening to goggle at the size of Reiner’s prick. They’re both pretty big guys. He knows that he himself isn’t small. They all tend to shower together, after all. And at their ages, with hormones surging, it’s not uncommon for the simple act of soaping one’s privates to bring on an erection. Bertholdt’s own penis is a good bit longer than anyone else’s that he’s seen. But he’s studiously avoided looking at Reiner’s. Tormenting himself with visions of something he could never have seemed needlessly self-destructive. But although Reiner’s cock isn’t quite as long as Bertholdt’s, it’s considerably thicker. He swallows nervously and glances up at Reiner, who is watching him avidly. He sucks in a shuddering breath and turns his attention to the matter before him. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t really know how. He’s dreamed of this so often he’s lost count of the times. To finally be permitted to serve Reiner this way...it’s incredible...breathtaking...perfect. 

He leans forwards and the tip of his tongue comes out to lick the tiny bead of moisture at the slit. Reiner gasps softly and mutters a curse under his breath. The fluid on his tongue is salty, a little bitter, but he finds it pleasant. Bizarrely, it reminds him of the sharp taste of the green gooseberries that grew around their village when they were growing up. Despite that fact that all the children knew when the fruit would be ripe and at its sweetest, they’d pick a few of them early, just in case, making faces at the bitter sweet tartness. His nerves evaporate with the memory, and his lips close around the thick, mushroom head. He sucks gently and swirls his tongue in obscene, slithering circles. Reiner’s fingers card through the silky strands of Bertholdt’s hair, his nails scratching gently at his scalp. He groans loudly and shudders. Bertholdt hums, pleased with himself, as he slowly slides his lips down the shaft of Reiner’s dark red cock, letting his saliva coat the velvety soft skin. He wishes he could touch it with his hands, but at the same time it is utterly delicious to strain and pull with the desire to reach up and touch, and to be unable to do so. He has no idea whether he’s doing it right or not, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Reiner’s fingers clench in his hair and oh...oh it’s perfect. He moans hungrily and nods his head. Reiner chuckles in a rather strained-sounding voice.

“You like it when I...pull your hair...huh, Bertl?”

Bertholdt licks a long stripe up the underside of Reiner’s cock and rolls his eyes up to look into his face. Reiner’s cheeks are flushed and he’s biting his bottom lip, his eyes hooded and dark. 

“Ohh yes,” he whispers. “Harder, please!” Then he bends his head back to his task and Reiner lets out an even deeper moan, ragged and hungry, and pulls Bertholdt’s hair so hard it brings tears to his eyes. It’s fantastic. He frowns a little and opens his jaws as wide as he can. Slowly and carefully, he lowers his mouth down Reiner’s shaft, flattening his tongue as far out of the way as he can. He breathes in shakily through his nose. Reiner starts cursing. Bertholdt has to pause for a few seconds to bolster himself. His jaw aches, but he’s determined. He breathes out slowly through his nose and works his mouth even farther down, eyes watering until tears are pouring down his cheeks, and until he feels the coarse hairs at the base of Reiner’s cock brush his lips. He feels his throat trying to close, and he can’t seem to catch his breath, but tries to force himself down that last inch anyway….

Reiner yanks on his hair hard enough to pull him all the way off, coughing and gasping, thick strands of saliva joining his swollen lips to Reiner’s glistening cock. They are both shaking a little.

“Oh my God, Bertl,” pants Reiner, “you have to stop. I’m about to come. And that’s...it’s wonderful. It’s...you’re _amazing_...but that’s not how I want to come!”

Bertholdt watches him uncertainly as Reiner sits back down on the padding and gently rubs the ache away from the crown of Bertl’s head, his fingers strong but tender, and he leans into the caress, managing to stop choking and coughing enough to speak.

“Are...are you sure it was okay?” he asks worriedly, his voice raw. 

“Fuck, Bertl,” says Reiner sincerely, “I’ve never felt anything that good in my life. Sometime...well, I want you to...to finish, okay? But not tonight. Tonight I want to...to be inside you. If...that’s okay.”

“God, yes,” says Bertholdt earnestly. “But...Reiner?”

“Yeah?”

“Could that be now, please? I’m...I feel like I’m going to go crazy. I’ve waited so long. I just… I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Me either,” agrees Reiner. He pushes the bale of linens out of the way and helps Bertholdt lay back down, turning him over on his stomach. Bertholdt hardly dares to breathe when he feels Reiner’s hands on the cheeks of his bottom. The sensation of cool air on his asshole is a little startling when Reiner presses them gently apart. He gasps when he feels something cool and dry brush gently across his hole. He whimpers softly. “So small,” whispers Reiner, touching the tiny pucker again. He prods tentatively, then presses a little harder. Bertholdt squirms a little. It feels so strange! He hears a wet, slurping sound and then the finger is back. It’s wet this time.

“Ah!” He stiffens a little and makes a small, startled noise when the tip of Reiner’s finger pushes just inside the tiny crinkled mouth of his hole. Reiner jerks his hand back as though he’s been burned.

“Does it hurt?” he asks quickly, sounding worried.

“No,” Bertholdt assures him. “N-not at all. It...it feels nice, Reiner. I’m just...no one’s ever touched me there before. It feels...weird.”

“But...good weird, right? Not bad weird?”

“No,” decides Bertholdt after thinking it over for a few seconds. “Definitely not bad weird. Do it again?” Then the finger is back and it swirls softly around his entrance before pressing in again. This time Bertholdt lets out a small, “hah,” sound of pleasure. The supremely sensitive little whorl of flesh, so rich in nerve endings, sends a jolt of pure pleasure through his body. It feels like his anus is connected directly to his cock, where he feels an answering tug. His back arches and he lifts his hips a little.

“Be still,” whispers Reiner sternly. Bertholdt goes stock still, quivering all over, but not moving a muscle. “God, Bertl,” continues his best friend. His _best friend_ , who promptly pushes his finger all the way inside Bertholdt’s asshole, making him let out a deep, gutteral moan. “You’re so good. Everything I say...you just do it. Right then. It’s like magic. I...I thought it’d be really awkward. To have my best friend acting like my slave. But it’s not. I fucking love it, Bertl.” 

To Bertholdt, it’s as though Reiner’s words are a deliciously soft fur glove that he puts on and uses to stroke Bertl’s naked skin. Every word is better than a caress. He whimpers softly, writhing in pleasure at the praise, and at the unbelievably good sensation of Reiner’s finger corkscrewing inside his asshole. Reiner pulls his finger out, and Bertholdt whines a little in protest. The other boy laughs and Bertholdt feels a warm, wet splat on his hole when Reiner spits on it. Then he’s whimpering again as the finger returns, pressing harder and pumping slowly in and out. Reiner keeps talking.

“You like this, huh? Like me fingering your hole? Does it feel good?” Bertholdt nods, blushing. Reiner leans down and kisses him tenderly on the back of his shoulder. “It feels good to me too. You feel good to me. Obeying me so perfectly. I was...I told myself I was just going to try it, because it seemed important to you. I didn’t….I wasn’t sure I’d like it. But I do, Bertl. You’re so fucking good. Yes, Bertl. If you still want to, if you’re sure, you can be mine. My...my s-slave. Yeah?”

“Oh _yes_ ,” whispers Bertholdt, his voice strangled by the tears welling up in his eyes. Reiner’s fantastic, wonderful voice and the perfection of the things he’s saying are too much for Bertholdt’s tender, sensitive heart. It feels like he’s going to burst! Painstakingly, Reiner adds a second finger, and more saliva, to his hole. He sobs a little, and assures Reiner when he asks in dismayed concern if he’s okay that they are tears of joy. Through them, he lets out soft cries of pleasure. The second finger stings a little, but only for a second. Then the slick rub and tug of Reiner’s fingers is too fantastic for words.

“Oh my God,” breathes Reiner. “ _Bertl_ , I can’t believe how good you feel inside. So _soft_. You’re like...silk and velvet.”

“It feels…,” pants Bertholdt, “pretty amazing….to me too...ngh! O-oh Reiner!” Reiner cautiously scissors his fingers apart. Bertholdt whines softly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Ah...a little,” he says cautiously. “Not too badly. If you’ll just...go slow?”

“Of course I will,” promises Reiner, doing it again, but very, very carefully “Fuck, Bertholdt… you’re so damn _tight_ ,” he mutters after a few minutes. The slow, careful scissoring doesn’t hurt anymore, and Bertholdt thinks he may quite possibly go insane. Or explode into tiny orgasmic bits.

“Reiner, _please_ ,” he cries, frantic urgency pitching his voice high and breathy.

“Are you ready?” asks Reiner, withdrawing his fingers. Bertholdt nods and nods and nods.

“Oh God yes. Please Reiner...please now, hurry. I’m dying. I want you so bad. Now, please now. Oh Reiner, please fuck me. Please, please….” He holds his breath for a moment. Can he? Dare he? Reiner had said yes… “ _Master_ , please.”

And oh, miraculously, Reiner is neither offended nor put off by the appellation. He moans appreciatively. Bertholdt feels more slippery, warm spit on his softened hole, and hears Reiner spit again, then curse feelingly. He feels the fantastic, reassuring weight of Reiner’s powerful, muscular body pressing him down into the layers of towels and tablecloths, finding himself seized by a moment of near-hilarity at the thought of how everyone would react if they ever found out what had happened on top of the towel with which they’re drying their naked bodies or the cloth off of which they’re eating their meals, and then it vanishes like mist before a sunbeam when he feels the wide, blunt head of Reiner’s cock nestle against his hole.

Reiner slowly leans forwards, carefully adding his weight, pressing his cock with no little trepidation into Bertholdt’s entrance. He feels his hole start to spread around the fat head of his Master’s rather intimidating erection. It’s all right at first. It’s a little scary, but he trusts Reiner more than he even trusts himself, and the immediate sensation of his asshole beginning to yield to the penetration is pleasurable. Then it starts to burn a little. He winces, and bites his lip. The pain won’t last. It had burned a bit when Reiner had spread his fingers apart too, but that hadn’t taken long to become really good. But the head of Reiner’s cock is very wide indeed, and Bertholdt isn’t anywhere near as ready as he’d thought he was. He whimpers in pain as Reiner pushes a little harder.

“Try. To. Relax,” says Reiner through tightly gritted teeth.

“I’m trying to,” whispers Bertholdt, trembling a little as the burning sensation only worsens.

“I’m sorry,” pants Reiner, “I...don’t mean...to hurt you.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” says Bertl a little tremulously, hoping it’s true. “Y-you’re just...a lot… bigger that I thought.”

“And you’re a lot...tighter...than I thought,” admits Reiner. His arms, framing Bertholdt’s body, are trembling with the strain of holding himself still. “Bertl...maybe we better stop, and try this another time…”

“No!” Bertholdt cries out in an anguished voice. “No, Reiner...Master, please! I want this. I want _you_! I’ve been waiting so long! Please, please don’t let me spoil this! Just…” His brain casts about desperately for a solution. “Just do it! It’s...it’s only because the...the head is so wide. Once that’s in, I’ll be fine! Please!”

“Are you sure?” Reiner’s voice sounds pretty doubtful. Bertholdt nods. Reiner sucks in a deep breath, rocks his hips back a little, and _shoves_. Bertholdt lets out a short, shocked cry as Reiner’s cock stabs inside him to the hilt. The bright, searing shard of pain at the sudden penetration takes his breath away. Reiner freezes, horrified, as Bertholdt bursts into tears.

“AHH,” cries Bertl, shivering all over. He sobs a little, unable to help himself. It just hurts so _much_!

“Oh God,” gasps Reiner. “Bertl! Bertl, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Shit, this was a terrible idea, we’re stopping right now…”

“Nnnoo!” wails Bertholdt. “Duh-don’t...stuh-stop! D-don’t leave me…Puh...p-please!”

“Oh my God, Bertholdt, I can’t do this to you, you’re _crying_ ,” says Reiner. He sounds like he’s about to cry too. He leans down and feathers anxious kisses over the back of Bertholdt’s shoulders. When he does so, Bertholdt stiffens suddenly and gasps sharply. Reiner stops abruptly and straightens back up. “Shit! Shit, what did I do? I made it worse. Damn it!”

“No,” breathes Bertholdt. The pain is still there, his hole feels like a very large, hot poker has been thrust inside it, and it burns and aches, a quivering, heated little mouth around the ruthless invader. His shoulders ache from the strain of trying to tear his hands free. But in the moment when Reiner had leaned forward, something in the way he’d shifted his weight had caused something miraculous to happen. Even through the pain, a sudden bolt of pure bliss had cut through his discomfort and gone straight to his cock. “Could you...d-do that again?” he sniffles.

“Do what?” asks Reiner, clearly very confused and still distressed.

“I...I don’t know,” cries Bertholdt in frustration. “J-just lean forward like you just did!”

Carefully, slowly, and with great reluctance, Reiner leans forward again, until Bertholdt throws his head back, narrowly avoiding breaking Reiner’s nose with the back of his head, and lets out another small cry. It doesn’t _sound_ like a pain noise, but his voice is still thick with tears, so Reiner obviously doesn’t trust it.

“Bertl, I don’t think…”

“ _There_ ;!” cries Bertholdt. Reiner flinches.

“Aah! What!?” 

“Ohh...right _there_ ,” sighs Bertholdt. The tension of pain is disappearing rapidly from his voice. Poor Reiner is horribly confused. 

“Bertholdt,” he grits out through his teeth, “tell me what you are talking about. This. Instant.”

“Yes, Master,” says Bertholdt meekly. “I...I’m just...not sure I...ohh...oh Reiner, _there_! Not sure I know how to...hngh...ex-explain it. There’s just a...oh...oh...a spot there. Ha. Inside me. It...it feels so _good_ when your...your...when you rub against it!” 

Reiner closes his eyes and concentrates very hard. This rather quickly puts him in a difficult situation. The sensation of plunging his cock inside Bertholdt’s incredibly tight little hole had been the best thing he’s ever felt in his entire life. Horror at Bertl’s pain and hearing him cry because of what Reiner had done had temporarily erased the brain-melting pleasure, but now that Bertholdt isn’t crying anymore, it’s starting to come back. He has no idea what Bertholdt is talking about, but when he focuses very hard, he thinks he feels some sort of bump underneath the soft, clenching silk of his new lover’s inner walls. He frowns, and bites his lip, then does his best to sort of...try to point his cock at that bump, then he moves, just the tiniest little bit of a gentle thrust. 

Bertholdt whimpers in pain, but then gasps. He’s completely mystified by the place inside him that suddenly brings such toe-curling pleasure amidst such burning misery. Not only does it feel astoundingly good when Reiner’s cock sort of rubs over that spot, but the tearing pain in his backside is slowly starting to fade to a deep ache. 

“Bertl,” says Reiner gently, “what do you want me to do? I’ll stop if you need me to. I don’t want to hurt you. We can try again some other time. It’s...it’s all right.” 

“No,” whispers Bertholdt, squirming just a little, because the discomfort and the pleasure mixed together are making him feel really strange. “No, I’m...I think I’m okay now. I...I don’t want you to stop. Please? B-be….be with me.” 

“I want to,” Reiner whispers back. “Oh Bertl...you feel so good. But I...God, help me, but...I really want to move now!” 

“Oh-okay,” says Bertholdt, albeit a little tremulously. 

Slowly and carefully, Reiner rocks his hips back, dragging his cock with great care out of Bertholdt’s aching, sore hole. Just as carefully, he presses it back inside, his eyes screwed tightly shut, concentrating on feeling for that inexplicable bum….Ah, there it is. Bertholdt whimpers, then gasps again. 

“Oh, _Reiner_!" 

“Right there?” asks Reiner, doing it again. “That where it feels good? Right…. _there_?” 

Bertholdt’s answering moan is very sincere. Painstakingly, Reiner rolls his hips back and forth, trying to be as gentle as he can. Bertholdt’s soft cries and groans seesaw back and forth between pain and pleasure. He still cries a little. He’s just so very, very _sore_ at the place where Reiner’s cock enters his body, aching inside like a sore tooth, but the slowly building pleasure deep in his belly keeps mounting every time his Master’s heavy cock rolls sweetly over that one perfect spot. Although it makes him wonder if perhaps there’s something very, very wrong with him, Bertholdt’s cock hasn’t softened even a little bit, not even during the worst of his pain. If he’s honest with himself, and he tries to be, the soreness is somehow deeply erotic. It speaks to him on a visceral level that being claimed this way, by the man who owns him, body and soul, should be a trial by fire. Little by little the pleasure builds and the ache recedes. Reiner’s careful thrusts rubbing over his sweet spot are causing his own hips to move and it’s making his own cock rub against the padding underneath him, and the gentle friction is building and building and…. 

Bertholdt gasps. His hands clench into fists. 

“Oh God, oh God...Please, I’m...oh!” he cries, lifting his hips to meet Reiner’s next thrust. 

“Yeah?” pants Reiner. “Bertl, I’m so close. You’re so perfect. You feel so good, and you’re beautiful, Bertl. I love you. You’re so good for me, taking me like this, even though it...hnn… even though it hurts. Mine. My boy. God, you look so good. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” 

The words of praise, coming from the lips of the most important person in his whole world, and in his overwrought state, with his brain a welter of emotions and his body trapped in a maelstrom of sensations for which he has no basis for comparison, are too much for Bertholdt. Sobbing and laughing at the same time, he stiffens under Reiner, pleasure more intense, more Earth-shattering than anything he’s felt in all his life rocks him to the very core of his existence. His sore, swollen hole clenches and clenches around Reiner’s cock as he spews what feels like every drop of fluid in his entire body into the tablecloth under them. Reiner shouts in shock when he feels Bertholdt’s release take him over. The flutter and clutch of Bertl’s unbelievably tight little asshole is entirely too much for his already tenuous control, and it snaps. His shout turns into a ragged, gutteral groan that seems to come from his toes, so deeply is it wrenched from him. He wraps his arms around Bertholdt’s shaking shoulders and buries his face in his best friend’s, his slave’s (thought the reality of that seems unbelievable to him still… _can_ Bertl really want such a thing? And can he give it to him without fucking it up? Oh, he’ll try, he will!), his lover’s neck and nearly sobs too at how unbearably good it feels like this. Inside Bertholdt’s body, together, after so many years of wanting what they both believed they’d never have. Joined. 

Bertholdt loses track of time for a while. He simply floats, not exactly asleep but not precisely conscious either, in a hazy, warm golden twilit state where everything is beautiful and perfect and nothing hurts at all. Nothing ever could. 

Until it does. Reiner lifts his head with a soft groan and very slowly withdraws from his partner’s body. When he does, every single one of the several dozen little aches and pains Bertl feels wakes up and clamors for attention at once. He makes a deeply affronted sound and then whimpers rather pitifully when Reiner does his best to sit up. 

“Oh God, Bertl, are you all right?” he asks at the noises Bertholdt makes. 

“Ohh,” laments Bertholdt. “I’m broken. _Everything_ hurts!” 

“I’m so sorry,” whispers Reiner miserably. “I’ve ruined everything! I...I don’t know how, Bertl, but we’ll manage somehow...you don’t have to have sex to...to be with someone. I won’t put you through that again, I promise….just….please. Give us a chance to…” 

Bertholdt does his best to sit up, which isn’t easy when your hands are tied behind your back. Reiner winces in guilt that he’s left Bertl this way for so long and carefully unwraps the leather straps from around his wrists and forearms. Then he helps carefully chafe Bertholdt’s shoulders, arms and hands until the pins and needles go away and the feeling returns, apologizing for that as well. 

“Reiner,” murmurs Bertholdt softly as the other boy fusses over him and apologizes, cleans him up with one of the washed towels and apologizes, and helps him untangle his harness and get dressed...and apologizes some more. Bertholdt, put mostly back to rights, rolls onto his back and looks up at Reiner, smiling dreamily at him until Reiner pauses long enough in his self-recriminations for Bertholdt to raise his hand as though he’s still in the dream and press his fingers to Reiner’s lips. The litany of penitence and guilt cuts off. Reiner looks down at him in surprise. 

“Master,” sighs Bertholdt, his smile turning a little daffy as he says the name and Reiner doesn’t pull away, “you didn’t give me a chance to answer your question.” 

“What question?” asks Reiner around his fingers. 

“If I’m okay,” says Bertl, still smiling. 

“You said you were broken,” protests Reiner, looking mortified. Bertholdt wrinkles his nose at him. 

“Oh I am,” he sighs. “Isn’t it wonderful?” 

_“Bertholdt!”_

“The answer,” says Bertholdt, reaching up to gently but determinedly pull Reiner down so that their lips can meet. After a long, lazy, thorough kiss, Bertholdt opens his sleepy, cloudy hazel eyes. “Is yes.” 

“But...but I hurt you. You’ve got bruises on top of bruises in some places, and you couldn’t feel your _hands_ and you...oh God, Bertl, you _cried_ when I...when we...did it. And… and…” 

“That’s all true,” agrees Bertholdt with a dreamy, soft smile. “But tonight I...I confessed that I wanted to belong to you, Reiner. Not just my heart, but my body too. I always believed that if I ever told you, you’d turn away from me and I’d never see your face again. But you didn’t reject me, Reiner. Not only didn’t you reject me, but you took all my dreams...the weird ones too, and you said...you said… _Yes_!” 

And even though it takes a little while for the aches and pains to subside entirely, and a little more time before he wants to try having sex again (they realize there’s such a thing as lubricants more effective than saliva, and it doesn’t hurt very much at all ever again), Bertholdt isn’t feeling any pain at all. 

_Reiner had said yes._


End file.
